


Ever Dreamed Of

by wayfindering



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Christmas Eve, Excessive Italics, F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Memories, Mistletoe, Multi, Nonbinary Xion (Kingdom Hearts), Romantic Fluff, Roxas swears, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Twilight Town (Kingdom Hearts), You've been warned, belated Christmas fic, happy new year's eve though, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayfindering/pseuds/wayfindering
Summary: It's like he lost everything in some natural disaster, or a fire, Roxas thinks. Lost every item he owned. And everyone he loves got amnesia in the blast, too, so when they rebuilt it all, they just...cut him out.Maybe he shouldn't complain; he's got Xion and Lea, he's got Sora, and he's found a home in so many new friends. But that's only half of his heart. The other half is tucked away here, in this picturesque snow-covered town, perfectly content being perfectly ignorant of everything they ever meant to him.Coming here for Christmas Eve may have been a terrible idea.
Relationships: Hayner & Olette & Pence & Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Hayner/Olette/Pence/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), roxas/tt3
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	Ever Dreamed Of

**Author's Note:**

> i tried so hard to finish this by christmas but life went off the rails and it just didn't happen. maybe next year i'll do more holiday stuff! got this one up by new year's eve, though (in my time zone at least)! so, happy new year, everyone, and here, have some rare-ship, holiday-themed cavities with which to ring in 2020.

Roxas remembers Christmases that never happened.

He tries not to think about it as they make their way into Twilight Town from the gummiship's hidden spot, but memories fall over him with the snow. Little flurries of pinprick crystal, just as cold and just as fragile; proof that even the most exquisite things life can disappear in a moment as if the marvellous complexity never existed at all.

Old friends that are brand-new now. Precious gifts that were never actually exchanged. Love that can't--well, that just _can't._ He's even got a vague sense of a long-lost family. It's a problem.

He's already embraced the fact that his memories and experiences are real to him. They make up a part of his heart now, in some ways inextricable from any other memory he has, and he regards them as being from a sort of parallel reality to this one. A world where he genuinely grew up. It makes referring to his past _and_ his present a lot less complicated.

But that doesn't mean anyone else can experience that with him.

When Xion disappeared, _they_ were able to be brought back. This is different. The people of digital Twilight Town didn't develop complex hearts, identities of their own. They were just puppets ripped off of reality for his sake, for less than a week, leaving nothing behind to bring back even if Roxas knew how.

In some ways it feels like a century ago that he lived here. But in other ways it just feels like he's only been away a couple of years.

A hundred would have been easier.

"You okay in there, Rox?"

Lea's voice snaps Roxas out of his thoughts just in time to feel the obnoxious rapping of knuckles on his forehead. He didn't even realise he'd paused here on the top edge of town, overlooking the shining rooftops below. They make a pristine picture against the day-long sunset, cut through only by the looming shadow of the clock tower.

Roxas waves Lea's hand away and sticks out his tongue in spite of the cold. "Stop it! I'm fine," he only half-lies, gesturing, "I just got caught up in the view."

It's a fair enough excuse. The town is stunning. The roads and cobblestone walks are clean and wet, still melting the flakes as they fall, and every other surface is draped in an untouched, thick blanket of snow. Idyllic.

It's the most beautiful time of year here--and that's saying something, since as far as Roxas is concerned Twilight Town is already the most beautiful place in existence. But in winter the iconic sunset stains every snow-covered surface until the whole town glows in magical soft pinks and oranges. The colours still gleam through all but the heaviest of storms, the air practically drips with dappled blushing hues between the shadows of the multicoloured brick buildings, and every single home is decked out in seasonal finery to match.

Anywhere else the holidays are a silver and white affair, but here in Twilight Town, Christmas is _golden._

"It _is_ pretty, but we're already running late," Xion says. "Lea drives like a doddering old man."

Their tone is teasing, but they take Roxas's mitten-clad hand in theirs for a moment and give it a light, understanding squeeze. They know why he's really hesitating, and so does Lea. They're his best friends, after all.

It's the first time he's been back to Twilight Town. It'll be the first time he's really seen _this_ Hayner, Pence, and Olette outside of the Land of Departure's big group hangouts, too.

"I do not!" Lea protests. "You're just a speed demon, Xion."

Roxas snorts at the familiar antics as Xion shoves Lea good-naturedly. He doesn't quite achieve a smile but his eyes crinkle at the corners and their icy blue defrosts just a bit.

Sucking in a deep breath of the chilly air to bolster himself, he sets off.

***

The familiar streets are full of Christmas lights, stark against the wide range of bricks and stonework, adding extra sparkle to the already-dazzling snowdrifts. Around them, people go about their last-minute holiday plans in a funny mix of frantic and blithe and the smell of baking floats out from the occasional open window. In tandem with their new woolen scarves--an early present from Naminé--the trek through town is almost cozy.

It's an alive sort of feeling that calls to Roxas as he leads Lea and Xion to the square, and for a moment he can't recall why he's put off visiting for so long. This is _home_ in a way he's not sure anywhere else can ever match.

It feels like two lifetimes ago but even before the digital world, he spent ages here with the two dorks still jostling and elbowing each other at his back. Actually, they probably know these streets almost as well as Roxas does. He takes the lead anyway since it is _his_ friends who invited them to hang out on Christmas Eve.

Hayner, Olette, and especially Pence know Xion and Lea about as well as they know _Roxas,_ here in the real world, but everyone still does Roxas the courtesy of calling them "his" friends and he can't find it in him to object.

Lea and Xion trail not too far behind him, bickering interspersed with ooh's and aah's at all the decorations.

Out of habit, Roxas's feet take them to less-traveled alleys and eventually, right to the usual spot. It's a path he's walked too often, and he's too caught up in his thoughts to notice before they're upon it, the black metal grate on his right startling him into awareness. He halts in his tracks.

Another memory, this one almost tangible, blossoms up around him.

_Himself, Hayner, Pence, Olette, just tucked in behind that wall, there, where he can't quite see, laughing around a heater while they made paper chains. The usual spot all strung with lights Hayner nicked from his mum's garage. A few of the bulbs were out, but nobody really minded._

_Hayner's head rested in Pence's lap. One of his legs draped over Roxas's knees where he was perched on a box. Olette sat across a makeshift table, showing them how to leave perfectly saucy little lipstick stains on every other paper loop, for no real reason except to be silly._

_"I can't believe you don't have green lipstick," Hayner complained._

_"When would I ever wear green lipstick?" Olette laughed._

_"All the time! You'd be cute in green lipstick."_

_"Not as cute as you."_

_"She has a point," Roxas chimed in. "You know green is your colour."_

_"Yeah," Pence agreed, "so why don't_ you _have green lipstick, Hayner?"_

_Hayner harrumphed so hard he almost fell off the old couch, waving his paper chain around. "Maybe I'll just get some, then! And next year, these'll be ten times better!"_

_But the kiss-bedecked chains still looked perfect, when they were done, draped haphazardly alongside the glittery trinkets dotting the walls of the usual spot--little oddments and assorted shiny things, picked up here and there over the years, each one catching the light, each one containing another memory of its own. Memories within memories._

Roxas squeezes his eyes tight enough to hurt and steadies his breathing, dragging himself back into the present.

"I'm sure th--Roxas?" Whatever Xion is saying to Lea is cut off as they almost run full tilt into Roxas.

"I'm fine," he manages in a tight voice.

"Yeah, I can tell," Xion says dryly, but more gently reaches a hand for his shoulder. It's a barely-there pressure, with all the layers of insulating wool between them, but it's comforting anyway.

"We don't have to do this, you know," Lea says, coming up on Roxas's other side.

Roxas blinks his eyes open but doesn't turn to look at either of them. "I know."

The image of the usual spot fades as he stares down at the beige cobblestones below him and he wonders if that's still what it looks like, even without him there to help. He'd only _truly_ lived seven days in the digital Twilight Town, and those were mid-summer.

How many of those trinkets and traditions really exist? How much did his mind invent? How much was just stolen from reality and apportioned to his memories?

There's probably no way to know for certain. DiZ never expected his heart to resonate so strongly with this place, to form such a complete and complex history. Then again, he never expected him to have a heart to begin with. Or to keep living. Bastard.

His fists clench at his sides.

 _This_ is why he's avoided coming here all year. This _sucks._

Not for the first time, he entertains the idea of turning around now, sending word that they couldn't make it. Lying. Running away. It sits so wrong in him. He just can't do it.

Their future together might be gone, but the dreams have lasted; he still carries the memory of everything they ever were to each other--he's holding it close even if he's holding it alone.

Roxas reaches up and covers Xion's hand with his, then reaches over and grabs Lea's, squeezing them both gratefully. "I know we don't have to. But I want to. I'll be fine." It's close enough to the truth.

"We're right behind you," Xion promises.

Nodding slightly, they set off again, Roxas's determined boots clicking down a little harder on the ground than necessary as he grits his teeth against the impulse to poke his head in past the grate and look around.

He really hopes he can get through this without some kind of nervous breakdown. He's just here to visit; pleasantries and pasted-on smiles. Just a few hours and then he can go home and have a proper sulk.

The memories stop pulsing so vividly when they finally reach the market. It's nostalgia tenfold, but the bustle of life and activity is a welcome distraction. They hear it before they see it and Roxas is glad they took this back route after all--the uncrowded alleyway is on just enough of an incline that it provides an excellent place to scope out the popup market.

"Oh, wow." Lea hisses a subdued whistle through his teeth.

Xion's not far behind with a, "Holy _fuck."_

"Yeah," Roxas agrees.

Xion is new to Christmas in general but Roxas realises that Lea's probably never seen this Christmas marketplace, either--he didn't spend a lot of time around the locals, apparently. He just came for the ice cream and the daydreams. They both look completely starstruck.

Although he supposes this is technically his first experience of the market in the real world, Roxas still remembers his own early impressions of the place. It's a little overwhelming at first and the flow of people seems chaotic on the outside, but there's a knack to it.

The entire square is packed with temporary stalls and storefronts on top of the ones already there. It's cutesy and rustic with goods and wares representative of every nearby town and trading post. Even a number of other worlds, though those are a little more subtle.

It's basically a miniature festival, a way for everyone to come together and draw some warmth out of the cold. And get completely wasted on cocoa.

There's a particular vendor here that boasts 358 different flavour combinations of hot cocoa and Roxas isn't ashamed to admit he's tried an indecently large number of them. They're all divine. He probably still has everyone's cookie order memorised, too.

The scents of spices that they've been following for a street or two waft over to them even stronger now, mingling with the heady thrum of people enjoying their day, evoking other snowy Christmas Eves spent here.

A splash of red stands out to Roxas after a moment, just a little brighter than the rest, and he finds the trio of people he's looking for across the throng of vaguely recognisable faces, his muscles automatically tensing as if ready to run over.

They're distracted by one of the ornament stalls and decked out in the cutest themed winter gear Roxas has ever seen outside of Sora's selfies from Christmastown. In fact, for a disbelieving moment he almost wonders if they've come straight out of that world. They would love it.

It puts the former Nobodies' own tamer assortment of dusters to shame, each of them in deep, muted tones, like they haven't quite moved on from the dark aesthetic. Maybe they haven't.

Meanwhile, Hayner is in candy-cane red, Olette's claimed mauve, and Pence's colour is just a few shades darker. From the fur-trimmed, flared jackets to the perfectly floppy Santa hats and even down to the pointy boots, they all look absolutely adorable. Edible. _Perfect._

Roxas's stomach does flips, his heart constricting at the sight.

This part doesn't feel comfortable and familiar--it feels new and fluttery. Like he's worried that he'll say something wrong, that they won't like him. Like he's meeting them for the first time, or like he's on some kind of first date. What the fuck.

He has so many more real, serious things to be worrying about, to be feeling right now. This is fucking ridiculous!

By the time him, Xion, and Lea are spotted, though, an embarrassing amount of the red in his cheeks is due to more than the cold air. Why'd they have to go and _match?_

This is not some grand scheme of the universe to spite him, Roxas tells himself. He's just overthinking this. Like a dummy, Xion would say. Will say, when he tells them later.

"Roxas! Lea! Xion!"

"Hey there!"

"You made it!"

Everyone shouts at once, trying to be heard over the din of the marketplace as they rush over, and adrenaline hits. Nervousness bleeds into anxiety which bleeds into grief in the space of a moment. And, underneath it all, this resonating urge to be comforted by their presence.

 _Fuck._ This is more intense than when the gang visits the Land of Departure or Destiny Islands. He fucking knew it would be. That's always a bit formal. Safer.

Today is something more intimate and real, filling up Roxas's heart and threatening to overflow.

Uncertainty and doubt tear at him. Maybe he should have turned around while he had the chance. They can't really want him here. They're only trying to be his friends because they think they have to be. Are they even really the same people?

Hayner rushes in for a hug first, completely unaware of the spinning thoughts behind the pasted-on politeness. The keenly recognisable scent almost knocks Roxas down--or maybe that's just the force of the boy crashing into his small frame and rocking him back on his heels, eliciting a yelp. Roxas keeps them balanced, his feet shifting quickly even in the snow with the automatic grace of a warrior. But Hayner apparently still uses that shampoo, the one that smells like almonds, and that almost negates his control over his knees.

A thousand overlapping recollections flood him--a thousand pats on the back, just like this; a thousand ways Hayner's hair always tickled Roxas's cheek like it is now. The cord binding his chest loosens, just a bit.

Pence is next and sweeps him up before Roxas can even react to Hayner letting go of him. The shorter boy is a whirlwind of his own, no less enthusiastic. He's all cinnamon and spices and an unexpected spinning hug.

The kind he only gives to friends. Good friends. _Close_ friends.

Letting out a bark of surprised laughter at the feeling of weightlessness, Roxas lets out a breath he didn't realise he was half-holding. They _are_ the same people. They're still them. The knowledge brings a little comfort with it. It's not much, but it's something.

Olette snags him too as Hayner and Pence greet Xion and Lea with slightly more appropriate levels of hospitality and the realisation continues to fold over him.

They _want_ Roxas here. This isn't a formality, or misplaced pity. Olette wraps Roxas tighter in her bold vanilla warmth, tucks a stray strand of blonde away from his eyes and back into his hat, and the cord constricting his heart finally snaps.

For the first time in two days, Roxas smiles.

It's a little bittersweet--in another life, he'd be tasting her lip gloss by now, and Pence's too, for that matter--but it's still good to be cared about, to be near them again, and the smile actually reaches his eyes.

Olette grins back, her own green eyes sparkling. "I'm so glad you could come, Roxas! We've missed you, you know."

Roxas tilts his head slightly. "You have?"

"Of course we have!" Pence declares, folding his arms and pursing his lips, daring Roxas to contradict him.

"Hah, you really are a bonehead," Hayner teases Roxas, coming over to poke insufferably at his face.

"Better a bonehead than an egghead," Roxas tosses back, grabbing one of Hayner's hands so he can't jab him again.

"Hey, at least I'm more than just a pretty face!" Hayner's rejoinder is good-natured, if a bit startled, but Roxas doesn't even notice. Watching his amber eyes catch the light is pleasantly distracting, like watching honey swirl into a cup of chamomile tea.

He laughs. "Oh, so you finally admit I'm pretty."

"Have you _looked_ in the mirror lately?"

"Not likely, with the way you hog it all the t--"

Roxas catches himself on the last word, finally taking in Hayner's expression. His brow is wrinkled in thought, nose all scrunched up as he flicks his gaze back and forth between Roxas's face and their joined hands and, for some reason, the empty air above his head. Roxas checks; it's definitely empty, all the way to the sky.

Everyone else is watching them. Lea, with a grin. Olette's doubled over with her giggling. Pence gives them a triumphant smile, looking all sly like he does when he's just been proven right. Roxas wonders what about.

Xion snorts. "You two are ridiculous."

"You're one to talk," Roxas mumbles on autopilot, barely audible.

"Well, come on!" Olette exclaims, grabbing Xion's arm. "We _have_ to get hot cocoa first. It's tradition!"

"That sounds amazing! I've never actually had the cocoa here," Xion replies. "Only ice cream."

"Then we're fixing that _immediately."_

Lea hums, thoughtful. "You know, me either."

"What?! Oh _man."_ Pence's distress is almost comical. "You guys don't know what you've been missing out on! Tell 'em, Roxas!"

"Uh..."

Pence doesn't wait for Roxas to come up with an answer, though, and joins Olette in ushering them off.

Hayner's bemusement melts into a smile as everyone turns away and it's like the moment of tension never happened. Roxas swears he even feels a squeeze of his hand before Hayner drops it and jerks his head wordlessly in the direction everyone else is going. Strange, how they still fit each other.

He can't deny that even through his gloves. And his hand _tingles._ Oh, _fuck._

***

Roxas would be lying if he said the rest of the day goes perfectly, but it does go better than he'd expected.

Xion and Hayner are absolutely shameless showoffs and Olette is just as shameless about goading them on. But Roxas would bet real munny that Olette could beat either one in a fair fight. He'll never tell Xion that, of course.

Even Lea opens up to Pence's endless questions about the Organisation. Roxas worries at first, but he should have known better; Lea can talk the ears off anyone, ranting about his Organisation days.

And Roxas always finds himself in the company of one or another of the trio, falling into step, bantering, joking, tossing around ideas of what to do next. Outside of the self-consciousness that comes and goes, it's very nearly like he belongs. So much that it hurts. But it's such a sweet ache.

Sometimes Xion or Lea will catch his eye and smile encouragingly, give a wink, one time Xion even mouths "I told you so" behind Olette's back when they catch Roxas laughing at one of Pence's dumb jokes.

He makes a face back at them but he can't begrudge them. They're probably just happy to see him snapped out of the funk he's been in for days.

The group makes a point to hit every single street of the market and the adjacent shopping district, sipping cocoa until they're nearly sick, catching snowflakes on their tongues, watching other people fall all over each other while ice skating--then trying on ridiculous outfits, getting kicked out of shops for being too rowdy, devolving into snowball fights (which Roxas _definitely_ wins, no matter _what_ Pence says), and warming back up with soup, before loading themselves down with all the souvenirs they can carry.

It's so like but so unlike all of his memories. Pence, Hayner, and Olette are still together; they're not wild with the PDA but it's clear to him.

And he should be happy for them. He _is._ He knows how good they are for each other. But he's also jealous. An empty, gnawing feeling in his gut is proof of that.

He's not used to this kind of emotion and it pings up into his chest and out into his limbs in unpleasant waves. Not even his oldest Twilight Town memories have jealousy in them.

Roxas has only ever been jealous once before, he thinks--of Sora and his freedom. That was a desperate thing that had resolved itself the minute he actually met Sora. This is different.

How can they be so _happy?_ Without _him?_ Of course they are. Of course that's not--not how any of this works. But if he mattered so much, if he was so good for them, too, then how can they just...be this well-off? Like he was never even necessary.

He's not sure if he likes this as a replacement for the distress of earlier. Torn between two sides of himself, the impulsivity and the uncertainty, both just different kinds of wanting. Why? Why does this have to happen?

If only DiZ hadn't--

He cuts that thought off before it can start. He won't regret. He doesn't do regret. Love is many things, but regret isn't going to be one of them today. Not any day. Not even if he feels this way for a hundred years.

The thought from earlier flits back into his head. A hundred years.

He kind of resents it, but it's true--it would be less painful to love people who were truly and completely gone, and had been for an age. Because he does love them, and he'll keep loving them no matter what. He can't imagine that he'll ever stop.

He tries to remember the last time he told each of them he loved them. The last few days in the digital Twilight Town are still such a glitchy blur.

"Roxas?"

He snaps his head up in time to catch Lea's furrowed brow peeking out from under his hat and shock of bright red hair before his expression clears.

Roxas realises he's balling his fists and relaxes them as casually as possible. "Yeah?"

"Did you hear anything we just said, you goof?" Xion's tone is light but Roxas knows them better than that. They don't buy his absentmindedness anymore than Lea does. Roxas is grateful for the cover, though.

"Ah, sorry, no" he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. They should be used to his moodiness by now, honestly.

"Figures!" Hayner teases.

In-between having a bit of a laugh at his expense, Olette and Pence recap the conversation they've just had and Hayner asks him again if he cares where they go next.

"Nah, I'm good with whatever."

"Excellent!" Pence says. "Then it's settled! To the next row!"

Hayner and Olette share a glance before Hayner jogs, crunching through the snow, to catch up with Pence.

All the communicative looks, the casual touches, they're a cozy fire on a cold night just out of reach behind a glass wall. One that doesn't burn any less brightly without him there. It stings.

And it isn't made any easier by the fact that they keep touching _him_ as well, just a bit. He could swear Pence has almost grabbed his hand at least twice.

Well, probably not, actually. That doesn't make any sense. Roxas is just seeing things because he's a pathetic sap.

He holds in a sigh. He misses them. Even while walking next to Olette like this in comfortable silence, even listening to Pence and Hayner chatter up ahead, hand in hand. They're right here but he misses them so much.

He knows them. He misses them knowing him back. He wonders if they'll ever get there again.

Love isn't regret, but it is pain sometimes.

Roxas has felt that pain with everyone he's loved in his short life. It isn't terribly surprising he feels it now.

He's also been the one to bring that pain to almost everyone he's ever loved, too, though, and he won't let them be next.

He won't be able to stay away again now that he's finally come here. So he has to be better than this. He can't muck it up; they're too important to him, however he can have them, however they come, however they want him. He absolutely won't throw their friendship away over the reckless pursuit of more.

Determination settles in him and in spite of the butterflies and the sparks and the longing, he believes that he can love these three for who they are to him now, just like they want to get to know who _he_ is.

His heart is big enough for that. That's something he learned from Sora.

Anyway, he can just picture it: 'Hi, I lived an entire alternate life where I was yours and you were mine and it was probably all orchestrated by a vile old man in order to distract me but I miss you like crazy the second I let myself think about it and all I want to do is fall into your arms. Oh, also this time I'm an intergalactic warrior with blood on my hands. Wanna date?'

The ridiculous thought on the heels of his tangled-up feelings makes Roxas choke back a strangled laugh and he misses his step just as they pass under another archway. Grippy boots aren't enough to prevent his fall when the ice from the dripping eaves is this thick and he comes at it from that awkward an angle.

Olette manages to catch his arm right before Roxas's battle skills can kick in and brace him for impact. She's just enough counterbalance for his wiry frame and they stumble forward slightly before finding their footing together.

"Thanks, Olette, I--"

Roxas inhales sharply. Time stops. Thoughts grind to a halt. Suddenly they're too close--she's _too close._

He can feel Olette's breath on his face, the pressure of her hand still on his elbow. They've been this close before. They've been so much _closer_ than this too many times to count. But she wouldn't know that.

Roxas remembers exactly what those lips taste like, the ones parted just slightly not four inches from his. He tries not to look at them, tries not to let those particular memories crash over him. It's a heavy moment, like a string pulling the universe taut, ready to snap back any second. It feels like he could just reach out and everything would be the same again. But it shouldn't be--it can't be--and the rush of conflicting emotions send his thoughts scattering.

It's been so long since he felt like this. Shivers ripple out from each point of contact and he hopes she doesn't notice his rapid, shallow breathing or the heated flush on his cheeks. Maybe she'll mistake it for cold, or embarrassment.

Innocent emerald meets wide, startled cerulean for one long moment before flickering upwards. Roxas follows her gaze, but there's nothing up there. Just the brick archway above them, hung with lights.

When he glances back down she's pulling away, a pout on her face. But it's short-lived, wiped away in an instant and replaced with an easy smile. Roxas suddenly wonders if he imagined the whole thing. The rest of the group is a few paces ahead of them, and hasn't even noticed their brief pause.

"You gotta be more careful, Rox!" Olette says in cheerful admonishment.

With that, she skips off ahead to catch up with the others.

He gapes after her and then shakes himself before jogging to catch up, watching where he puts his feet this time. Dammit, he's got it _bad._

Which, of course, is how he ends up agreeing to stay the night.

They're sitting on a bench outside a woodworking shop, bags at their feet, waiting for Xion to pick out one last thing for Naminé. Hayner went in with them, insisting that he was excellent at picking out gifts.

Pence is the one who springs the question on Roxas, completely out of nowhere.

And of course Roxas doesn't have a single way out, a single excuse or plan of escape, because no, he isn't doing anything the rest of the night, or tomorrow morning before the big Christmas dinner that Sora and Ven have been in a feverish haze planning all month. Roxas doesn't have family, obviously, and he isn't seeing anyone right now, and both Xion and Lea have other plans tonight because they _are_ dating people.

Honestly, all he was planning to do was sleep in. Well, mope a little, too. Maybe take out some of his stupid internal turmoil on the sparring grounds, if anyone was up to it.

But, if he's being honest with himself, mostly just sleep in.

"I don't know," he hedges.

"We're gonna swing by here to pick everyone up in the afternoon anyway, Roxas," Lea says with a shrug, leaning against a lamp-post across the sidewalk from the bench. "It's not like it'll put anyone out. You should stay! Have some fun."

Of course Lea would agree. He's seen Roxas open up again over the course of the day--he probably thinks it'll be good for him or some shit.

Pence nods enthusiastically, leaning forward on Roxas's right and throwing his arm around Roxas's shoulder. "Yeah, you can borrow Hayner's clothes or something. We always sleep over in Olette's basement and watch movies--"

"--and then on Christmas morning," Olette interrupts from his other side, hands splayed out excitedly, a delicate gesture in her fur-trimmed red gloves, "our families all get together at Hayner's place and we have a huge potluck brunch! Friends are always welcome!"

"It's tradition!"

Like Roxas needs them to tell him what he's signing up for. He wonders if they realise he knows all their holiday traditions already.

It's a little too easy to get caught up in Pence's arm around his shoulder, the warmth of him tangible at Roxas's side, fogging up his thoughts like hot breath on frosty glass.

"Pleeeease?"

Reality cuts back in quickly with the solid clunk of Olette's boot tapping against his impatiently. 

It's such an earnest request. And their faces--their _faces._ They look so eager, so ready to welcome him into their friend group. It's so fucking sweet. Fuck. He can't say no to them. Could he ever?

Roxas, torn between fidgeting in anticipation and biting his lip in dread, tries desperately to look nonchalant as he nods.

"Sure."

***

This was a terrible idea. This was the worst idea anyone's ever had. Roxas shouldn't have come here; he shouldn't have agreed to stay tonight, he shouldn't have even accepted their invitation to come to Twilight Town in the first place.

He's stopped in the wide doorway to the basement den, bare feet planted on the plush carpet of the hall floor, heart shot through with ice, warm air frozen in his lungs.

He didn't expect the basement to be what did him in. Not after everything else.

But the second he sees the three of them surrounded by the same old furnishings, the big Christmas tree, the _couch,_ it strikes him harder than it has all day like it's finally sunk in, like it's finally real.

Roxas swallows thickly and tries not to think about soft hands in his hair, arms around his waist, a face leaning into his shoulder, drifting off to the flickering T.V. screen on the overstuffed couch in a pile of blankets and tangled limbs and sleepy kisses pressed to the side of his head. That closeness, that feeling of home.

It's crowding his head, screaming inside him. He can't do this. He _can't do this._

Panic rises. He gasps for air, the world darkening around the edges. Someone's talking but he can't hear it.

He has to get out. He has to leave. He'll call Sora to come get him or something.

But he's frozen to the spot.

It's _too much._

There's a touch, a hand on his, lifting it up from his side and carefully prying open the clenched fist. He looks at it, vision suddenly blurring as Olette threads her fingers through his.

"Roxas?"

He hears her this time and tries to look at her face, but that's blurry too, now. Her other hand cups his cheek, her thumb wiping at the wetness there. Oh, he's crying.

Hayner and Pence are somewhere behind her, muttering cryptically, and he can't follow a word of it.

"We should've--"

"We couldn't know he was feeling like _this."_

"Always fucking bottles everything--"

"But you're right, maybe we still should've--"

"I was _looking_ for some, you know."

"Me too, but--"

Roxas blinks but he can't get the tears to stop. He tries to suck in steadier breaths, straining against the tightness in his chest, focusing on Olette's hands, small and calloused but not rough. He needs to ground himself. He knows how to have panic attacks. He's doing a shitty job of it.

"Rox, hun?" Pence's voice.

Two more blurry figures join Olette--Pence is just to the left of her in front of him, with Hayner to the right, at Roxas's elbow. He can't find the words to answer, to explain himself, but he finally blinks away enough tears to catch the concern on their faces as they surround him.

It's not the level of confusion he expected--they're a little disarrayed from the day's activities but mostly they look like they're about to cry just from seeing _him_ cry.

The hand on his face pulls away but when his frantic eyes dart over to meet hers, Olette clutches her other hand tighter to his and smiles reassuringly.

"Do me a favour?" Pence asks. Roxas glances back at him and nods. "Look up."

He does.

It's just the door frame. Double-wide, made of broad, dark wood. Decked out for the holidays. Some white lights, a garland and greenery. Classy, but nothing unusual. Why...?

He looks back down and straight into Pence's eyes, full of easygoing cinnamon-coffee brightness and flecked through with gold and _startlingly close to him._

Roxas registers what's happening a split second before he feels the soft, smiling lips on his own.

_Mistletoe._

He's underneath _mistletoe._

And Pence is kissing him. It's sudden and salty and quick but it's sweet, too, and it lingers faintly, a sort of tingling on his lips, new and familiar at once.

He doesn't have time to so much as think before Pence steps back and Olette tugs on his hand. He turns to look and she's _there,_ green eyes shimmering, emotional but understanding. Her face is framed with disheveled brown hair that tumbled free when she took off her hat. She's _all_ there, even the part that knows Roxas, that he never expected to see again. Has she been there all day? Have they...all of them?

She reaches for his face again and pulls him forward, lips firm against his.

Roxas chokes back a sob and suddenly realises he's breathing again. Olette lets out a burst of laughter as she leans back, and then she's holding in a sob of her own, her smile watery as she draws her hands up to touch her lips, taking all of her heat with her.

And that just leaves--

Hayner makes an impatient noise and turns Roxas slightly, leaning in from the side, not wasting a moment. His hands move from Roxas's shoulders to his neck, cradling his head, and he pours himself into the kiss like _he's_ the one who's waited ages for it. Typical.

The ache that's been building in Roxas's chest all day burns as the panic recedes. It's the burn of something numb being warmed up too fast. It hurts, but in a lifetime of hurt, it's one of the most wonderful pains Roxas has ever felt. He can't possibly stop crying, now, and the tears stream freely down his face. Hayner doesn't seem to mind.

Roxas melts into the third kiss and then, like something finally _clicks_ in his soul, he sags forward, completely boneless, into their arms.

***

It's hard for Roxas to muster up enough energy to be properly perplexed.

After all the intensity, after that much crying, the world feels all buffered around the edges, like his head is full of soft fluff--the cozy atmosphere with its dim twinkling lights and quiet music only adds to the effect. It's surreal, being cuddled on the couch like this after so long, but it's so comforting that he's compelled to relax into it.

All he really wants to do is curl up here, tucked into Hayner's side, cheek pressed into Hayner's shoulder, face buried in the fluffy fleece of his sleep shirt, and get lost in the soothing way the boy's hand brushes through his mussed blond hair, the way he teases out every spiky lock and strand before smoothing them out again.

Or in the weight of Olette draped across him on his other side, her head pillowed on his hip, seeping heat into him, one of her hands reaching up for his and holding on tight.

Or even in the absentminded but perfectly-in-tune humming from Pence, who's sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, tapping away at his gummiphone and refusing to join the cuddle pile until he finishes catching up on whatever project data he's reviewing. Apparently, holidays are for people without hyperfixations.

All Roxas _wants_ to do is float away like this, held and surrounded and loved. But...he's never been content with not knowing. That's only gotten truer with every new disaster life has thrown at him; he has to know enough to set his mind at ease, to be certain that when he wakes up again everything will still be here. Then he can lose himself to the drowsy evening.

"So..." he starts, pulling himself out of the fog and reaching for words through the soporific molasses of his mind. "... _how?"_ Well, it's a start. 

"How what?" Hayner drawls, hand pausing for a moment in Roxas's hair as he, too, tries to blink himself back into wakefulness.

Pence hasn't drifted nearly as far and looks up from his phone, face melting into an indulgent, lopsided smile as soon as his gaze meets the sleepy tableau in front of him again. "How do we remember you, you mean?"

"Yeah." Roxas nods and, reminded of where his hand is, Hayner moves it down around Roxas's shoulders. "They're _my_ memories. My memories are only real to me."

Olette snorts and shifts around so she can rest her chin on her arm, looking up at him. "I hate to break it to you, love, but you don't have that impressive an imagination. And the memories weren't just stolen and shoved in, either."

"She's right, Roxas," Pence says. "I've been doing research with Ienzo in the mansion's lab."

Roxas blinks slowly. "You've been...researching me?"  
  
"Well, just general...research. You may have come up...uh...once or twice. Or a lot." Pence looks a bit sheepish, hand rubbing at his neck.

Hayner snickers, shoulders shaking, and Roxas's world undergoes a miniature earthquake until he stops. "I told Pence you'd think it was weird. _I_ wanted to tell you sooner."

"It's not weird!" Pence waves Hayner off frantically and looks pleadingly at Roxas. "You were pretty central to that system, Roxas! And we _agreed_ that we had to have more information first before coming to you."

Olette comes to Pence's rescue before Roxas can do more than smirk at the exchange. "We weren't sure _you_ would remember _us,_ at first, you know? You were really distant. And our memories aren't even really memories. Just...echoes." She sounds a little questioning and Roxas glances down to see her head tilted curiously.

"They're all full memories to me," he offers. "I was the one living it."

"Yeah, I guessed." Pence nods. "So we don't have all the memories you do. We just know you."

"In our hearts," Hayner adds on. "It's like you've been gone away a long time, but also like we've always known you, but also it feels like you _should_ be in all our memories up until last year."

"We try not to overthink it," Olette says.

"Speak for yourself!" Pence sticks his tongue out at her.

Roxas groans into Hayner's shoulder. "Some of us can't _not_ overthink it."

A mix of jumbled laughter ripples through the room. Pence scoots forward on the coffee table until his legs dangle off the edge and out of habit, Roxas moves a bit, careful not to dislodge Olette, until he can extract one of his own legs to hang off the couch, too, just brushing up against Pence's, so they're all touching. Just how he likes it.

Pence grins, a similar triumphant look to the one he'd sported earlier that day, like he's pleased Roxas keeps proving all his hypotheses. It's a new feeling, being on this end of one of his projects.

"Anyway," Pence continues, "like Olette said, none of these memories you have were pre-loaded. You were just supposed to be a blank canvas. It was an illusion for you to stumble through, nothing but paper dolls and painted sets."

"So, what happened?"

"Your heart-- _our_ hearts called out to each other," Olette breaks in, smiling fondly. "The computer was just the medium. We created your memories _together._ Kind of romantic, huh?"

Pence nods his agreement and turns back to his phone, foot idly running up and down Roxas's leg as he scrolls and clicks around.

The words flood Roxas with a kind of mushy, sentimental thrill, but he hesitates. "Isn't it weird that I just came in and changed your lives, though?"

"That's what being a person is, dummy." Hayner pokes Roxas in the side of the head before ruffling his hair, messing up all the petting and smoothing from before. "We all change each other every day."

"Oh." Roxas doesn't really have anything else to say. He can't argue with that.

"You were changed a lot more than we were." Pence's voice is a bit preoccupied, but he's not fully tuned-out yet.

"And we wouldn't have it any other way."

Olette says it like that's all there is to it. End of discussion. It won't be, though; there's logistics to figure out, comparing notes, rearranging so many dynamics.

Roxas can't just move into some empty house in Twilight Town and go to school and pretend everything's the same, after all. He's a keyblade wielder this time, and he has so much _more_ he has to live for--his duties, his best friends. The entire other half of his heart.

But then, they know all that, in this reality. They know both sides of who he is. And they still want to be with him. Of course they do. Everything's changed and nothing's changed, at the same time.

They'll make it work out. They always do. They're still _his._ He's still theirs. And he won't have to carry that knowledge alone.

"It's gonna be okay," Hayner murmurs, leaning his head on top of Roxas's and snuggling a little closer.

Roxas takes a deep breath full of everything familiar, everything he's been dreaming of, right down to holiday spices and hearth-fire smoke, and lets it out, forcing the remaining tension with it and relaxing completely.

For a second he just breathes like that, melts into the velvet serenity pushing at the edges of his wakefulness, and focuses on every place he's touching one of them. A kiss to Hayner's shoulder, a squeeze to Olette's hand, a nudge to Pence's foot.

"Yeah," he sighs, contentedly. "It is."


End file.
